


Drarryland 2019 Collection

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drarryland 2019, M/M, Warnings at the top of each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles from the Drarryland 2019 fest!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson is trying to do the right thing. Only, it's slightly more difficult than she had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The right thing is seldom free, but what does it cost? Minimum: 213 words, Maximum: 321 words.
> 
> Thanks to all the people helping to run Drarryland 2019!

Pansy Parkinson was professional in every sense of the word. She was efficient, charming, and above all, she most  _certainly_  didn’t interfere with the personal lives of her customers.

She had been forced to remind herself of that rule a lot recently. The problem was, the longer she had to watch those sad grey eyes, the more difficult it became to follow. She should stay out of it, of course. It was the right thing to do.

Three years, though. Pansy had been through her fair share of pining, but this was an all time low. Three years they had been coming to her bar, leaning on the counter, and covertly staring at each other like they were bloody in love.

Their conversations always started off civil, careful. Calculated.

“Potter.” A dip of the head, simple acknowledgement.

“Malfoy. How have you been?”

“Fine, thanks. You?”

To anybody else, it was the most innocent of conversations. But Pansy wasn’t an idiot, and she hadn’t spent three years watching them for nothing. She noticed the way Potter angled his body towards Draco, or the way Draco kept nervously wiping his palms on his jeans.

She watched as the night progressed like always and they became notably less reserved, laughing and joking and whispering. She watched the way they looked (no, gazed) at each other. The smiles, blushes, and casual touches.

She watched them like she had for three years.

She watched and watched, waiting for the slip up, for the drunk confession, for one of them to bloody give in and admit their feelings. It never happened.

Pansy was determined to do the right thing, especially after the war, but she was so exhausted of their elaborate dance. She sucked in a deep breath of the sweaty atmosphere and made up her mind.

Maybe she could break her rule, just this one time.

“Potter!” she called, “Get over here. We have to talk.”


	2. Down in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to curb his curiosity, Harry decides to visit Draco Malfoy in the hospital wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Trigger warning for mentioned suicide attempt
> 
> Prompt: The Fates have spoken. You have drawn the Tower card, upright. You will write about sudden upheaval, broken pride, and disaster. Because this card is ruled by Mars, the god of war, your story will take place during the War and will channel the element of the fire. You may read the full description of the upright card here. The powers that be foresee a word count no higher than 876, and always an even number.
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta, Kristina, for helping me - you're the best! All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> And as always, a huge thanks to the people helping to run Drarryland 2019!

“Potter,” he said resignedly. “Why are you here?”

“I had a headache, and —“ Harry improvised quickly, glancing shiftily around the hospital wing.

“I’m not an idiot,” Malfoy cut him off. “Why are you here?”

If Harry was honest with himself, he wasn’t exactly sure why. He just knew he had to see Malfoy.

“I… you tried to kill yourself,” Harry said finally. The fact that he was having a civil conversation with Malfoy threw him. This was uncharted territory.

“Your observational skills astound me. Why do you care if I’m hurt?” Malfoy was watching him curiously. There was no hint of hostility on his face, just exhaustion and a broken sense of carelessness.

“I just wanted… I don’t know. I just, I guess, well… what happened?”

“Eloquent as always.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Was I obligated to?” he asked. His face seemed closed off, emotionless, but slightly amused all the same.

Harry was taken aback. “I didn’t mean —“

“I know.”

Harry fell silent, trying not to stare at the paste covering Malfoy’s burned skin.

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked desperately, thinking how much easier this would all be if Malfoy was still acting like a jerk.

Malfoy just stared at him, like it was obvious. “Because I’m a death eater.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He stared back helplessly, casting around for a response, but Malfoy just gave him an untroubled sneer.

“Save your breath and your pity, Potter. There are more important things than me.”

“There’s a difference between pity and empathy, you know.”

“And I’m absolutely certain that the only reason you know that is because of Granger,” he snorted.

“Not every smart thing I say is from Hermione!” Harry huffed indignantly.

“You’re not denying it,” Malfoy retorted, and Harry just rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But stop trying to change the subject.”

“There was nothing more to say. Since when have you cared about me in the slightest?”

“Since when have we had an actual conversation?”

“Touché.”

There was another pause in which Malfoy resolutely avoided Harry’s gaze.

“You set fire to your bed,” Harry said finally, bluntly. “That’s what everyone’s saying.”

Malfoy let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Why don’t you just run back to your fan club with a tragic story about the death eater who set fire to his bed?”

“Can you stop making this into a joke? You tried to kill yourself."

“I should have died. I deserve it.” It was scaring Harry how eerily calm his face was, as if everything he said was the truth.

“Why did you become a Death Eater?” Harry demanded, determined to get to the root of the matter.

“Believe it or not, when the Dark Lord is standing over your shoulder and threatening to kill your family, it’s hard to say no. Not everyone is brave like you, Potter.”

Harry chose to ignore that last part. “Does your family know you’re here?”

“My family?“ Malfoy laughed drily. “They disowned me. Turns out it broke their pride to find out they had a gay son. Which seems ridiculously insignificant, in the grand scheme of things, seeing as there’s a war going on.”

“You’re gay?”

“Why? Are you interested?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in amused askance.

“I — what? No, I just —” Harry spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Save your breath. Are you going to keep interrogating me, or will you leave?”

“I just want to help.”

“Why is it that you all of a sudden expect that you’re entitled to know anything about me? I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your help.”

“You don’t have to die to escape from your problems.”

“Potter -”

“Malfoy, you have to get help.”

“Get the fuck out,” Malfoy whispered suddenly, his voice shaking. “Please just get out of here. If you just keep hating me like everyone else, this will all go back to normal.”

“I don’t hate you, Malfoy. What will it take to get that through your head?”

“Look, just leave now okay?“ he said desperately. Harry could tell from his tone that he was on the verge of breaking down, and he realized that Malfoy was embarrassed to be seen like this.

“Just — just go,” he choked out again, turning his head. “Just fucking go.“

Harry didn’t go.

Suddenly Malfoy was crying, great wracking shudders that went through his whole body. Harry hesitantly sat down on the bed next to him.

Malfoy tensed, and Harry prepared himself for the backlash, but it never came. Slowly, Malfoy relaxed into him, tears still spilling down his face, soaking the sheets.

“We’ll figure it out,” Harry said. “You might be a prat, but you’re not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Malfoy let out a choked laugh. “It’s not that easy, Potter. You can’t just waltz in here and think that your presence gives me a will to live.”

“I never said it would. But I don’t give up on my friends without a fight.”

“We aren’t friends,” Malfoy said.

“We are now.” Harry retorted.

Malfoy scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Harry could swear that the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.


	3. The Chudley Cannons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harry gets tired of looking for a job, he decides to join the Chudley Cannons. It just so happens that Malfoy plays Quidditch too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.” - Napoleon. Drarry + Enemies as Lovers; minimum: 403 words, maximum: 873 words.
> 
> To all the people running Drarryland 2019, it's amazingly organized and so much fun! You are all the best.

When Harry had first started searching for a job, he quickly realized nobody cared about talent. Even the Aurors had given him the job without the customary training.

Exhausted and becoming increasingly frustrated, Harry had sought out Ron and Hermione’s help.

“What can I do? Everywhere I go, they let me in without so much as an interview! I don’t want to succeed just because I’m the Boy Who Lived.”

Suddenly, Hermione had started laughing.

“What?” Harry had demanded, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking, you should join the Chudley Cannons. You can’t win Quidditch based on your name. Especially with the Cannons.”

“Hey!” Ron had squeaked indignantly. “Watch it!”

But Harry had stopped listening.

Now, standing in the locker rooms, he smoothed down his orange robes, admiring the black C’s emblazoned on the front.

This was the most important game of the season, against the prestigiously undefeated Puddlemere United. Their seeker was currently the top in the league, and unfortunately somebody that Harry knew all too well.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Malfoy to the back of his mind as he strode over to the team he had become so fiercely confident in.

As they walked onto the pitch in tight formation, Harry instinctively scanned the crowd.

The Cannons’ side was a mix of die-hard fans like Ron and people claiming they had always rooted for the Cannons, but were really just there to see Harry’s revamped team. The other side was a wave of blue, omnioculars glinting up towards him. Harry could make out someone sporting a huge banner screaming, “TAKE DOWN POTTER.”

Harry tuned out the crowd as Puddlemere United stalked onto the field, trying to ignore Malfoy’s confident smirk and blazing eyes. He would not be distracted.

After a fierce hour of playing, the game came down to the snitch.

In the end, Malfoy spotted it first. Harry had been keeping one eye on him the whole time, so he saw as Malfoy wheeled his broom around, face screwed up in determination as he flew towards the golden blur.

Then a black ball sped right past Harry’s head, so close that he could feel the breeze. There was a bludger, on course straight for Malfoy’s back, and the crowd gasped in unison as it rocketed along.

Malfoy was entirely oblivious to all of it, solely focused on the snitch that was now within an arm’s length.

Harry opened his mouth to do something, to call out and warn Malfoy —

And then he closed it again, and just watched. Something in him wanted to let Malfoy make this mistake. He wanted to watch a simple bludger hit the best seeker in the league and take down his enemy of so many years.

The bludger struck Malfoy square in the back, and he flew forwards off the broom.

Harry surged past, arm outstretched, ignoring the guilt and victory that were now battling inside his chest. His fingers closed around the cool metal, a single crushed wing flapping feebly against his hand.

They had won.

Stepping out of the locker room half an hour later, he found Malfoy scowling at the ground, his royal blue robes still splattered with mud. He looked up when Harry came, his frown deepening.

“You saw it coming didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t respond, just trained his gaze on the ground to avoid Malfoy’s stare.

“You fucking saw the bludger.” Malfoy’s voice came from much closer this time, and Harry glanced up to find Malfoy standing right in front of him, anger decorating his expression.

“What did you expect me to do? We’re on opposing teams!” Harry said defensively.

“What if I had been seriously injured? You could have told me there was a bludger!”

“But… you’d have caught the snitch,” Harry said feebly, stumbling away from Malfoy’s glare. His back hit the wall with a thud. He could still hear cheering in the background, and he imagined that he could make out Ron’s voice among the shouts.

“You always loved seeing me fail, didn’t you Potter?” Malfoy laughed humorlessly. “Trust you to join the worst team in the league and somehow take me down.” He shook his head, staring at the ground, and Harry could hear the defeat in his voice.

“You played well,” Harry began hesitantly, feeling only slightly bad.

Malfoy didn’t take well to his pity. Instead, he snarled and took a fierce step closer.

“Shut up Potter.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Harry said, his temper rising suddenly. Malfoy took another angry step forwards.

“I said, shut up.”

Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath against his face now, could see the curl to his lips.

“You can’t make me,” Harry hissed back.

Without warning, Malfoy kissed him, pressing his mouth firmly against Harry’s, grabbing the front of his orange robes.

“Nobody tells me what I can and can’t do, Potter.” Malfoy declared threateningly against his lips, his air of superiority smugly back in place. “I’ll be expecting a rematch. The Cannons’ luck never holds up for long.”

With that, he turned on one foot and disapparated.

Harry was left in complete shock, staring at the place where Malfoy had been only moments before, his mouth still tingling.


	4. Blueberry Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes down to Harry Potter's breakfast, nobody can beat Draco's expertise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One works day shift, the other works nights. They have breakfast (or dinner) in the morning. Not Established Relationship: they always cross paths and end up eating together. minimum: 301 words, maximum: 613 words.
> 
> All you people helping with Drarryland 2019 are the best!

Draco flopped down at his usual table with a sigh, absolutely famished after his night shift in auror training. He looked around expectantly for Harry, but instead he was greeted with the revolting combination of bright orange hair and violet Curse Breaker robes.

“Where’s Potter?” Draco asked, trying to hold back a snigger at the atrociously clashing uniform.

“He’s running late. He told me not to wait up,” Ron explained, suppressing a yawn as he slid a second breakfast tray onto the table.

It was almost instinctive now, the way Draco would seek out Potter at their one shared meal. If anyone asked why, Draco would tell them it was because he had grown tired of Potter blearily crashing into him on his way down to breakfast. Of course, the only solution was for Draco to suggest (in quite an exasperated fashion, mind you), that they just eat together. It was only to avoid another collision, nothing more.

“What’s the second breakfast for, then?” Draco asked curiously. “Surely you aren’t that hungry.”

Ron looked at Draco like he was daft, one eyebrow raised. “It’s for Harry. I told you, he was running late, so I thought I’d get him food before it all ran out —”

Draco cut him off, staring at the tray in disbelief. “Wait, wait. That’s for Potter?”

Ron just huffed in annoyance. “Yes, it’s for Harry. What about that don’t you understand?”

“You can’t seriously think Potter will eat that,” Draco said incredulously, eyeing the haphazardly piled tray with distaste.

“It’s way too early for this,” Ron muttered, barely stifling another yawn.“What are you on about, anyways?”

“You mean to say you weren’t joking?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, are you going to explain?”

Maybe it was the product of Draco’s sleep deprived brain, or maybe he didn’t realize what he was saying, but somehow it all just slipped out.

“Well, first of all. Potter does not drink pumpkin juice, especially not on Tuesdays. You got him plain toast, but he always has marmalade. And what’s with all the eggs? Don’t you know that Potter feels sick if he eats too many eggs? And — bloody Merlin, is that a cranberry muffin? Of all things. Really? Cranberry? Potter only eats blueberry, everyone knows that.”

Draco just scoffed and grabbed the tray, heading back over to the buffet to refill Harry’s plate.

Ron gawked at him as he sat back down, mouth hanging open, not even bothering to hide his shock.

“How the bloody hell do you know all that?”

Draco had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck and trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

“We just eat breakfast together often, is all.”

Just as he spoke, a disheveled Harry Potter slumped over to them, running a hand through his disastrous mop of hair.

“Malfoy got you breakfast,” Ron said finally, pushing the newly stocked breakfast tray towards Harry. After a moment’s appraisal, Harry nodded in satisfaction and pulled it towards him.

“Just out of curiosity,” Ron began in an offhand kind of way, “What would you have said to a cranberry muffin?”

“Cranberry?” Harry threw back his head and laughed aloud. “I’m not that uncivilized. Even Malfoy doesn’t eat cranberry.”

Draco just smirked at the expression on Ron’s face, taking a satisfied bite of his own blueberry muffin.

Ron threw his hands up in surrender. “You know what kind of muffin Malfoy likes, and you don’t find that strange at all?”

Harry just shrugged unconcernedly and shook his head.

“And you’re sure you aren’t dating?” Ron muttered in an undertone.

But neither of them heard. They were too busy eating blueberry muffins.


	5. The Giant Squid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the spirit of interhouse unity, Malfoy comes up with a plan. It just might involve the giant squid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Your first Detention will be served with Filch - You must write or draw Drarry + Hogwarts Detention - either 1) Receiving the detention OR 2) Serving the detention. minimum: 250 words, maximum: 950 words].
> 
> It was very late when I wrote this, please don't judge me y'all.

“ _Interhouse unity,”_  seemed to have become Headmistress McGonagall’s all time favorite phrase. It had been one of her conditions when she invited the eighth years to return to Hogwarts: they could come back as long as they worked towards  _interhouse unity_.

Of course, she hadn’t stopped there. No, she decided that in order to create a more welcoming environment, the eighth year students would have to complete weekly tasks to establish new bonds between houses.

After five weeks of increasingly boring and useless tasks, Harry knew there would be trouble as soon as he saw a new paper tacked up to the message board.

**WEEK 6 TASK:**

**Take a walk around the lake with someone from another house!**

Harry looked at it incredulously, feeling his eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“You’re kidding me,” he murmured to himself in exasperation. There was a soft snicker from behind him, and his hand flew instinctively to his wand as he spun around.

“Calm down, Potter,” Malfoy said quickly, stepping backwards and raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a little on edge.”

“Maybe what you need is some interhouse unity,” Malfoy smirked, placing delicate emphasis on the words.

They had fallen into a kind of easy truce since the war. When they first came back to Hogwarts, Harry had been expecting it to be tense and uncomfortable, even violent. Somehow, though, after Malfoy had apologized, things just felt okay.

Pansy Parkinson slumped into the room, followed a few seconds later by Hermione, who was rubbing her eyes.

“What’re you looking at?” Pansy slurred sleepily, her words trailing off into a loud yawn.

“We were just getting excited for our unifying walk around the lake,” Malfoy explained, amusement coloring his voice.

“Not another one!” Hermione exclaimed vehemently, and the fact that even Hermione opposed was a testament to how much everyone hated interhouse unity.

“Maybe we can all look for the giant squid together,” Pansy suggested sarcastically, collapsing into an armchair. “That sounds like great fun, don’t you think?”

All of a sudden, Malfoy made a little noise in the back of his throat, and Harry turned to look at him. There was a strange gleam in his eyes, and a smile playing around the corners of his mouth that it looked like he was trying to suppress.

“What?” Harry asked, regarding Malfoy curiously.

“Let’s catch the giant squid.”

“What?”

“Let’s catch the giant squid and bring it into the castle,” Malfoy repeated, a feverish tone creeping into his voice.

“You can’t be serious,” Hermione said, looking at Malfoy like he was insane, and then turning to Pansy almost desperately. “He’s not serious, right?”

“Oh, he’s serious,” Pansy said slowly, rising to her feet. “I recognize that look.”

Harry ignored Hermione’s immediate, loud, protests. He just stared at Malfoy, who was looking back at him with a kind of burning challenge in his eyes. Harry hated turning down challenges.

“Let’s do it,” he said suddenly, watching the slow smirk that spread across Malfoy’s face. “Let’s go show McGonagall what we think of interhouse unity.”

——

That's how they found themselves standing on the edge of the lake at midnight, watching gleefully as a huge black form sped towards them through the water.

“Hermione, you’re a genius,” Pansy gasped out, laughing hysterically as Hermione carefully formed a huge bubble out of water. She performed another complicated series of charms, carefully luring the giant squid into her bubble.

“You’re all insane,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head as she concentrated on the water. “Every last one of you.” A few seconds later, the giant squid was floating in front of them, encapsulated in a giant blue ball.

“Merlin,” Malfoy stared, astonished. “You actually did it. We just caught the giant squid.”

They carefully floated the squid into the castle, Pansy laughing so hard that they had to keep stopping so she could catch her breath.

“Hermione was right,” Harry murmured to Malfoy, “You are absolutely insane. We’re levitating the giant bloody squid into the castle.”

Malfoy just grinned.

“Bugger,” Hermione whispered suddenly, “I hear someone coming our way.”

Pansy managed to stop laughing momentarily, and grabbed the arm of Hermione’s robes. “Granger, you and I will take the squid. You two —” she gestured towards Harry and Malfoy, cackling again, “— distract them as long as you can.”

The two girls quickly disappeared with the giant water bubble, leaving Harry and Malfoy to face the footsteps that were rapidly approaching.

And then, none other than Headmistress McGonagall rounded the corner to find them standing there guiltily. She folded her arms sternly in front of her. “Potter, Malfoy. What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

“We were just going on a stroll to improve our interhouse unity, Headmistress,” Malfoy said innocently.

“Detention,” McGonagall said, not looking fooled in the slightest, “You can work on your interhouse unity in detention with Mr. Filch. Now, off to bed.”

Harry and Malfoy ran off, barely making it to the common room before Pansy and Hermione came sprinting in, doubled over with laughter.

“We left it — in her — office,” Pansy choked out between fits of giggles, collapsing into the armchair.

"We're going to be in so much trouble," Malfoy smirked, and that set them all off again.

At long last, after they had finally regained their breath, Harry stood up.

“Well, I’ll see you in detention, Malfoy,” he said, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face.

Malfoy paused for a moment, seeming to debate something. Finally, he spoke. “Draco. My name’s Draco.”

Harry smiled again. “Goodnight, Draco.”

"Goodnight, Harry."

 


	6. Suffocating on Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment Harry leaves, Draco finds himself suffocating on air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You've drawn the King of Swords, reversed. This card represents tyranny, abuse of power, and manipulation. It can indicate someone is misusing their authority or power or having inappropriate outbursts. The Fates foresee this story taking place before the conclusion of the war, but see it with some sort of resolution. An understanding. Minimum: 345 words - Maximum: 567 words.

There was something intensely different. From the second he approached, Draco was unreadable. His eyes flickered around the light-soaked classroom, as though Harry was just a peripheral smear that didn’t bear his attention.

“Draco?” Harry probed carefully.

Then Draco looked up, and Harry almost wished he hadn’t. His expression had slipped into a many-layered mask of hatred.

“Potter,” he sneered, lips curling into a signature look of derision. The world felt fragile, as if the air was made of glass and every breath was a danger.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, recoiling. All the insecurities lurking in the deepest recesses of his overcrowded brain came surging forward.

“It’s over.”

Harry froze. Suddenly he was hyper aware, each miniscule shift of the atmosphere setting another inch of skin on fire until his body was nothing more than a collection of overworked nerves.

“You didn’t actually think you meant anything to me, did you Potter?” he continued, incredulous.

Then there was a silence. It wasn’t just quiet, but silent, the lack of noise beating down on his every pore. Harry wanted so desperately to break it, but he had forgotten how to speak.

“You did,” Draco spoke, almost gleeful. “You actually thought we had something? Get over yourself. I was just bored.”

At that moment, Harry hated how he still hoped. He hated how he zeroed on on the way Draco’s sneer faltered slightly. He loathed his imagination for pointing out Draco’s desperately blinking eyes. Draco always blinked quickly when he lied.

“Just leave,” Draco spat derisively, shoving Harry away.

Harry hated the way that he craved even that small bit of contact as he stumbled back, hated how familiar the feel of Draco’s hand against his chest was.

The door slammed.

Inside, Draco crumpled to the ground, every shape in the walls grasping at him, pulling him in.

Someone broke away from the shadows, snickering coldly.

“Oh, Draco!” Blaise sang mockingly, “Love of my life!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Draco growled, unable to muster true anger while Harry’s broken expression was still burned into his vision.

“Watch it, Malfoy. I think you’re forgetting who has the power here.” He spoke with a slow drawl, the same cool tone that Draco had been using minutes earlier. “Do you want me to tell Lucius you're gay?”

And that was it. The root of the problem.

Draco silently shook his head, slowly suffocating on air.

“Good,” Blaise said. “Stay away from Harry.”

Draco couldn't think, couldn't feel. He just sat. The light of day had never seemed darker.

  
He made it through a week. A week of worried looks from Pansy, of passing by their empty classroom. His emotions seemed to have run out, as though Harry had made him feel too much, and now everything was just — gone. He made it through a week of trying to apologize with his eyes and having Harry look away, unseeing.

It was Harry's blank stare that cracked him, because it was  _his fault_. Nothing was worth seeing Harry like that. So he mustered the courage and sent a letter, because what Zabini didn't know wouldn't fucking hurt him.

_Astronomy tower, midnight. I'm sorry._

_\- DM._

Harry opened it at breakfast. He glanced up to find Draco watching him. There was a fiery resolution burning in his eyes, a spark of hope flickering ever so slightly.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet.


	7. Again and Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy has been dragged back to the Ministry interrogation room once again, and like always, Harry is completely out of his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Drarry + “I don't believe you.” in either 1) a Ministry interrogation room OR-2) a dark alcove at Hogwarts OR 3) a nightclub - Minimum: 343 words - Maximum 533 words.
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta Kristina because you are SO sweet and helpful. All remaining mistakes are my own :)

“I don’t believe you,” Malfoy said finally, lazily stretching out the words, as though he knew he was in control and was just preparing to pounce. “I don’t think they just happen to assign you to my case every bloody time.”

His tone was light enough, but the hard blaze of his searching eyes made Harry want to run,  _flee_ , and never come back. But of course, that’s what Malfoy wanted, wasn’t it? To watch Harry flee, again, tail between his legs like a frightened crup.

“You think I take your cases on purpose,” Harry said, after a pause. It wasn’t a question.

Malfoy just arched one infuriatingly perfect eyebrow, as if he had nothing to fear. Even locked away in a ministry interrogation room, Malfoy managed to make it look like he was at home.

“I don’t  _think_ , Potter. I know.” Harry sucked in a breath, for some reason feeling like the room didn’t have quite enough air. “Maybe that’s why I do it. Maybe I commit crime after petty crime, because that’s how desperate I am to see you. Maybe I like knowing that you scan the lists, waiting for my name so you can  _beg_  to be put on my case once again.”

Harry didn’t have a response, didn’t know what to say, and it was all wrong. He was supposed to be the one interrogating Malfoy. He was supposed to be the strong-footed, overly confident, cooly calculating Auror.

He wasn’t supposed to be lost for words, feeling more chained up than the person sitting in front of him.

“Stop talking, Malfoy, and let’s get on with this.” Even Harry could hear the slight tremor in his own voice, the feebly pathetic way he seemed to lose all semblance of control the second Malfoy opened his mouth.

“You don’t really mean that,” Malfoy scoffed, eyes glinting, a smirk curling his lips. “You don’t want me to stop talking. You love hearing me talk, you look forward to these moments. I’ll bet you hear my voice in your dreams, don’t you?”

Harry had to leave. He couldn’t stay a second longer, facing the relaxed slope of Malfoy’s shoulders as he smirked at Harry, like there was some kind of secret between them.

“I’ll be back,” Harry said warningly over his shoulder, trying to regain the conviction that always dissolved under those slate-grey eyes.

Malfoy just sat there, unfazed by the sudden departure, a calmly amused expression settling across his face. “I know you will, Potter. You’ll be back, again and again and again. You always are.”


	8. Lie to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the night is too dark and Draco has trouble telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Lie to me then." Maximum: 448 words.
> 
> Huge thank you to my beta Chris for being so supportive and making my day. All remaining mistakes are my own :)

Harry came out of his dream slowly, the lines blurring between reality and sleep as his senses ebbed back into existence. He shivered involuntarily as the moonlight washed over him, almost as if it was stealing his heat. The cool draft rustled against the emptiness of the sheets beside him.

Draco was standing on the balcony. The soft light threw his harsh silhouette into an indecipherable shadow, revealing nothing. Harry got up quietly, walking over to join him, and he rested his forearms heavily on the railing. Draco gave no indication that he saw Harry. He just kept staring out at the night, his white-blond hair more ethereal than ever.

"You okay?” Harry murmured, keeping a careful distance between them. Up close he could see the tension in Draco’s shoulders, and he knew it was a bad idea to touch him, even with comforting intentions. It wouldn’t be welcomed. Sometimes the lightest brush of fingertips could entrench him in the war, in blistering cries and strikes of light.

He entertained the silence for a few minutes, trying to feel at comfort with the cool air, to be at ease with the cold in the way Draco always was.

“What’s wrong?” he asked at last, when the silence still rang strong through the air.

“It’s nothing.” There was a finality echoing in his tone, a set of his jaw and tilt of his head  _just so_ that said he didn’t want to talk. Sometimes it scared Harry, how much power he oozed with one word. It pinned him down to the cruel reality of magic, where a single word was all it took to silence somebody forever.

“You aren’t telling the truth,” Harry said quietly, and he felt Draco’s gaze snap up to his. He shivered again, uncertain if it was the cold or the intensity of the moment.

The stare remained on him, as though he was waiting, waiting for Harry to continue, and the expectation seemed to cloud the darkness between them.

But Harry didn’t say anything else.

There was a long slow breath from beside him, and he could tell Draco was trying to speak, his jaw working with frustration. Finally, he looked away, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut.

“I can’t. I can’t tell the truth.”

Harry could have fought back. He could have told Draco to just  _say what’s wrong._ In the moment though, Harry found that the truth didn’t feel quite so important.

“Lie to me, then. Sometimes it’s easier to lie.”

It seemed as though the corner of Draco’s mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly, although it might just have been a moonlit distortion.

“I’m not scared,” Draco said, letting out a sigh, and Harry could feel his breath gather in the darkness.

“Was that a lie?” he murmured, staring out over the balcony, “Or a truth?”

The words came softly beside him, floating over the stars. “I’m not sure.”


	9. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry keeps running right into danger, and Malfoy just can't stand it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "My my, you've drawn the Three of Pentacles, reversed. You must craft a tale that shows a lack of teamwork, disorganisation, and group conflict. The signs of this card are all earth signs, grounded in reality, trustworthy and dependable, but also not very keen on taking risks. This will be a theme in your story. The powers that be foresee no more than 634 words."
> 
> Thank you so much to my awesome beta, and of course to all the Drarryland mods!

“It’s reckless, dangerous, ignorant, impossible, and — what was I forgetting? — oh yes, it’s completely against protocol,” Malfoy commented drily, lazily ticking each point off on his fingers as though their time wasn’t running out as he spoke. **  
**

“You know what else is dangerous? Leaving them to die!”

“Potter, I know there’s some defect in your moral compass that compels you to save everything in your path, but we’re not going into the house.”

“Malfoy —”

“He’s right, Harry,” Ron cut in grudgingly, studiously avoiding eye contact, “We have to follow Robard’s orders.”

“Oh, not you too!” Harry cried, aghast. Ron blanched slightly, his freckles standing out prominently, and just stared into the space between Malfoy and Harry as if that would get him out of the situation.

“As much as I resent having to say this, Weasley, I appreciate your common sense.” Malfoy shot a pointed look at Harry, and even more color drained from Ron’s face.

They’d done this a million times. These missions, these arguments, these words thrown around carelessly. Harry wanted to ignore orders and plow ahead to do whatever it took. Malfoy was conservative and careful. Ron tended towards Malfoy’s side but hated contradicting Harry.

After they messed up yet another case, Robards had assigned them extra practice runs to, in his words, “go on one bloody mission without blowing something up.”

“We’ve been partners for three years, Malfoy. Why can’t you trust me with this?”

“Don’t,” Malfoy warned. He narrowed his eyes. “You know I trust you, but you also know that the last time you took control, we blew up a house.”

“You just don’t want to take risks,” Harry hissed, relishing the way Malfoy’s mouth ticked up at the corner, his signature mark of suppressed frustration.

“And you want to dive into danger without a second thought,” Malfoy retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re here to do your job and follow orders.”

“I’m here to save lives,” Harry shot back angrily.

“By sacrificing your own? Don’t pretend, Potter. You know going into that house is a suicide mission. This is just a practice run, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry scowled.

“When will you learn? Robards will kick you out if you don’t start listening.”

“This isn’t about Robards,” Harry insisted, “It’s about doing what’s right.” Suddenly, Harry muttered a spell under his breath and sprinted off towards the abandoned house.

“Potter! What the hell?” Malfoy yelled in frustration. He made to follow Harry, but when he tried to move, it was like he was stuck in cement.

“Bloody hell! Malfoy, do something,” Ron moaned, casting a helpless look after Harry’s retreating form. “If he causes any more problems, Robard will kill us.”

“Oh, for Salazar’s —” Malfoy gave up his futile attempt to unstick his feet, and then yelled at the top of his lungs, “Potter, I’m in love with you!”

Harry stopped dead. He spun around, and Malfoy resolutely ignored the sickly green tinge on Ron’s face.

Miraculously, Harry walked away from the house, stopping right in front of Malfoy.

“Are you saying that to keep me away from the house, or do you really love me?”

Shit. Harry was too close. And because of that damn sticking charm, Malfoy couldn’t back up. How was he supposed to deny it when Harry was so, so, close?

“Merlin, Potter, we can discuss this later —”

“Tell me the truth, Malfoy, or I’m going into the house.”

“Potter —”

“Malfoy. Tell me.”

Malfoy looked away mutinously, face burning. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“You know what, Potter? Yes, I do. And you keep throwing yourself headfirst into danger and I can’t fucking stand it and —”

He was cut short, because Potter was kissing him, and then all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and Ron squawking indignantly beside them.

 


End file.
